


tidal waves, they rip right through me

by notthebigspoon



Series: down here in the atmosphere [5]
Category: Baseball RPF, Warrior (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Frank gave in every time it sounded like Tommy was ready to throw in the towel, throw this all away, they'd never have gotten started retraining him.</p><p>Title taken from Down by Blink-182.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tidal waves, they rip right through me

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before the previous stories in the series. A look into Frank and Tommy's relationship and how it got started, as well as a more in depth explanation to Frank's aversion to underground fights.

If Frank gave in every time it sounded like Tommy was ready to throw in the towel, throw this all away, they'd never have gotten started retraining him.

When he'd been released from Leavenworth, he'd talked even less than usual, if that was possible. It wasn't prison that did it, even if the sentence had been only a few months. Nobody had wanted to punish Uncle Sam's best publicity in years too harshly. No, Tommy was too tough to let something like that break him. What had broken him was the loss.

He did seem glad to have his family again, Frank knew. In fact, that seemed to be the one thing that was carrying him. Tess and the girls loved him, and when he came home, for weeks there was no going to bed for the Conlon girls unless Uncle Tommy took them. He'd grumbled that he hadn't moved in to be a nanny, but the pleased smiles and the way he folded like a cheap suit at the bat of two sets of eyelashes betrayed how much he liked it.

Things with Brendan were harder to mend. Even if Tommy had forgiven him, their was a breach in the relationship that they couldn't seem to cross. Sad to watch, because it was all so obvious and they should have seen it but they just didn't. Tom, even if he figured it out, would never tell Brendan that he'd taken away the one thing Tommy had ever had that he hadn't had to hate.

Tommy had hated leaving, hated the West Coast and, when Manny had died, he hated the Marines. Fighting was the only thing he'd ever done for sheer love of it. When Brendan had dislocated Tommy's shoulder, he'd beaten him. He'd taken that away.

The two of them would never recognize it. It would fade eventually. Not without help though. Not without someone that cared enough to force his way in without care for what it might do to him. Hunter was a start but Tommy needed something more, something different.

The crazy thing was that Frank wasn't doing it because he wanted to help Brendan. It had been the biggest shock of his life to realize that he was doing it for love of Tommy. Tommy, whom he'd never met in person until his coming home party when he'd been released from prison.

Tommy who made his idiot fool traitor heart race with one rueful smile.

So Frank had meddled. Had told Tommy that he was going to start training at Frank's gym and if Tommy thought he had a way out of it, to forget it. The memory of the look on Tommy's face when Frank had told him that if he refused, he would go to Tess and the girls and see what they thought about it, was one that still made Frank's eyes crinkle with a near invisible expression of mirth.

And Tommy had accused _Brendan_ of being whipped by the woman.

There were months, months of molding Tommy not back into the fighter he was, but the better fighter he could be. He trained every day, hard, and found a best friend and favorite enemy in Pence. And no matter how much Tommy seemed to resent and even hate Frank at times, he still had never walked away. Thank God for that, because Frank was sure he could never have handled it. Tommy might not know how he feel, might never know, but that wasn't what was important. Frank would take what he could get.

And wasn't that one of the most pathetic thoughts he had ever had.

“You're an idiot, Campana. Fucking pathetic.” Frank mutters, burying his face in his palm and shaking his head.

“Could have told you that. But it's more fun hearing you say it yourself.”

Oh, this was one of those days where everything just got better and better, didn't it?

Frank doesn't look up from the bills he's paying. He only slides them off to the side and grunts, his free hand waving in a meaningless gesture. Tommy isn't deterred.

“I'm just sayin' coach. You need to get out more.”

“And do what?” Frank asks, still not looking up. Inwardly, he was thinking that there really wasn't anyone he wanted to go anywhere with that wasn't Tommy. Out loud, he only says “I gotta keep this place running. I don't get to dance all day. Hell, I don't get to dance at all.'

To anyone else, it would sound bitter and only half joking. Tommy seems to know better. There goes that smile again, with an impudent twist as Tommy sits right on the desk, almost on Frank's hand. His eyes flick over the stack of papers and the sparkle in his eyes gets brighter as he seems to note that Frank is done.

“C'mon. At least go get a beer with me before you retreat to your Fortress of Solitude.”

“Really? Superman?”

Tommy doesn't answer, just smiles a little brighter, like he already knows that he's won. And hell, he probably knows that Frank always finds it a little difficult not to give in the moment those blue green eyes land on him.

Fucker.

By the time that Frank has pulled his coat on and locked up, Tommy is already waiting in the parking garage, leaning up against Frank's car. Frank raises an eyebrow. Tommy simply shrugs. “Don't got no car and I told Tess I didn't need a ride, was gonna be busy tonight.”

“Tess picks you up?” Frank grins. Tess has practically adopted Tommy.

Tommy just flips him off and climbs in, buckling his seat belt and settling in as Frank pulls them out of the garage and onto the street. He says little during the drive, but that's nothing unusual. He talks when he feels like it. Sometimes he just likes to listen.

They listen to a local talk show on the way to the bar, snorting and shaking their heads at Pence running his mouth. The guy is awkward in every sense of the word, even in interviews. They talk about Frank's gym and, inevitably, someone mentions Sparta. Pence deflects the question, saying he had nothing to do with any of it, just happened to train at the same gym. Tommy's mouth settles in an unforgiving line and he turns the radio off.

Frank says nothing. They never talk about the fight, ever.

The bar they go to is a local dive not far from Frank's apartment. The night out had been Tommy's idea but Frank buys the first round after pointing Tommy to his usual booth. Tommy gives him an acknowledging nod and tips the beer bottle he's handed when Frank joins him.

For a while, they don't speak. They just drink and quietly observe the big screen in the opposite corner of the bar. It's playing the Phillies game. Pence has just hit a home run when Tommy speaks again, his voice quiet and soft. “Why don't you fight, man? You still could. I've seen you move.”

The whole thing takes Frank off his guard. He knows that tone, the one that belies how much he seems to care. He sounds absent but Frank knows he's going to be hanging on to every word. It's for this reason that Frank so carefully considers what he says next. There are times when the truth means everything and this, he knows, is one of the times that's going to shape how Tommy views him for life. He can only hope that it's not going to destroy the fragile friendship, if that's what you can call it, that they've built.

He rolls his beer bottle between his hands, watching Tommy with a barely there grimace. “There was a guy. Most amazing fighter I've ever seen, and that includes you. We trained together from day one. Brendan used to call me his shadow and I guess that I was.”

He stops talking and looks away from Tommy. He's thought about it a lot over the years but he's never spoken about it, not to anyone. Tommy doesn't rush him. Franks takes a breath, sighing and pressing on in a subdued voice, the pain destroying his cherished zen.

“He took up with the wrong side of the business. The kind that offered big money up front and never told you what you were getting in to. The kind that used him to build the reputation and brand of a fighter with bribed refs and judges. Dirty fights.” Frank grits his teeth, forcing himself to look Tommy in the eyes. “Brain damage. The fight didn't stop, even once he was out cold. Brain was battered to jelly. Doctors did what they could but he didn't last very long. And then I was alone.”

“You loved him.”

It's a statement, not a question. Frank nods. Tommy isn't stupid, no matter what he lets other people think. What does surprise Frank is the empathy, like Tommy knows exactly how he feels. Maybe he does.

“Your Marine buddy?”

Tommy nods again. “I'd never have taken him from his wife but he was mine while we were there. And when he went the way that he did... it was so bloody. Sometimes I can't remember what he really looked like.”

They trade stories through three more rounds and ultimately decide that Tommy should never go to Bangkok and Tommy can't down a shot of Tequila for shit. He blames it on spring break when he was 22. Tommy asks if they'd invented the wheel yet by then and Frank punches his shoulder as they stumble out of the bar laughing like fools.

It's stupidly cliché. Covert confessions in a bar and Frank inviting Tommy to crash at his place. Just around the block and all and they can ride to the gym together in the morning. Saying everything that's usually said, Frank bringing out a rarely touched bottle of whiskey and Tommy taking a swig before leaning in for a kiss that Frank is sure is bruising his lips. Tommy’s hand is fisted into his hair and God knows why but Frank laughs, in a way that he can't remember laughing in a long time.

Sex, in the past few years, has been a quick and near meaningless means of stress relief. They didn't mean anything and half the time he didn't even know their names. He sure as hell had never laughed when he was with them. He just couldn't help but think of... well, that was in the past. No sense in dwelling on it. That train of thought was fleeting and soon, all he could think about was Tommy.

Tommy's mouth on his, those hands and the way the muscles in those arms would coil when Tommy pulled him closer. The way Tommy would hiss against Frank's neck as he came, chest pressed flush against Frank's back, fingertips leaving perfectly spaced bruises across Frank's hips. The way he only smiles when they tumble apart, lazily kissing Frank as he cleans them both up with a discarded t-shirt. The way he falls asleep, again pressed flush up against Frank, snuffling in his sleep. It all feels so easy.

The feeling lasts into the next morning, through a quiet but not unpleasant breakfast. Tommy wore a pleased smirk during the walk to Frank's car and all the way to the gym. Their arrival together surprised no one, especially Pence. It was common knowledge, or gossip anyway, that Tommy was Frank's favorite. The bigger surprise was that Frank was late. He managed to hide any sort of emotion until he had assigned sparring and began supervising a test bout between Tommy and Pence.

It was a work of art, really, to watch the way they both moved. It was a dance, a perfect one like he always felt in his own body when he followed the music. He's so caught up in his own thoughts that when he finally notices Brendan standing next to him, he jumps.

“He looks good. Usually I only see him that happy when he's with my girls.”

Frank doesn't answer, just nods as his heart keeps beat with the way that Tommy moves. He's not really sure he knows where this conversation is going. He's never worn his heart on his sleeve, so there would really be no way for Brendan to know how Frank feels. Then again, even if he did, Frank still wouldn't care. Brendan may be his friend but Tommy is something more. Tommy is going to come first. The thought is startling but it's one that Frank likes.

Brendan, however, doesn't seem to be as happy. His expression is tight and his knuckles are almost white, his hand is clenched so tightly. “Look, Frank... I don't know if you get it or not, but I'll say it. Tommy? He's crazy about you. And I get that you don't feel the same but you've got to say something. You can't keep leading him on like this.”

“In what way have I led him on?” Frank asks. He could save Brendan the trouble of the conversation but he's curious.

“Just all this extra time you spend with him. He gets twice the training with you that any of your other fighters get, not to mention the off time.” Frank starts to speak but Brendan cuts him off before he can get anything out. “And I don't believe for a minute that you're over at the house to see me, Tess or the girls.”

“Fair point.” Frank murmurs, smiling to himself. He’s trying to keep his cool but when Tommy grins at him as the kid climbs out of the ring, he outright beams. When he turns back to Brendan, he's schooled his expression back into something that resembles his usual self. 'Maybe I just think that Tommy can be more than you're all letting him be.”

Brendan looks startled, like he has no idea what this is supposed to mean and Frank finds himself growing angry.

“You have him so isolated. All he has is your family, Pence and the gym. I'm not saying you guys aren't good for him, but he needs to start building a life of his own. You need to let go a little Brendan, let him find his way for a change?”

“And me? Do I get a say or are you two busy planning my life out for me?” Far from angry, Tommy sounds amused. He's damp from a quick shower and Frank swallows hard. Now is not the time to get distracted by... oh damn, too late. The bastard looks like he knows exactly what Frank is thinking.

“I just care, Tommy. After all of this, I just want to make sure I'm not going to lose you again. I love you. We all do.” Brendan protests, looking agonized and guilty.

Tommy grins and he's not sure how, but Frank knows exactly what's coming next. He should stop it, really, because who knows what it could do to the atmosphere in the gym. But it's been years since the only time he ever wanted someone this badly, so he gives in. When Tommy leans in, hand resting on Frank's shoulder, Frank meets him halfway in an absent smooch that speaks of love and permanence and stability.

Frank never expected any of this to be so easy.

To his credit, Brendan manages to hide any kind of shock he might be feeling. He merely clears his throat and raises an eyebrow while the other fighters and trainers either mumble to each other about what they just saw or pretend, some a little too hard, that nothing out of the ordinary just happened.

Brendan doesn't give Frank the 'break his heart and I'll break your neck' speech. He just shoots him a curious look before telling Tommy that he'd meet him at the car. Tommy nods before turning back to Frank. He's smiling like Frank is the only person there is in the world.

“He'll be okay. And fuck him if he isn't.”

Frank shrugs and leans in for another kiss before watching Tommy leave. One of his other trains smirks and makes a comment about extra personal training. In spite of himself, Frank laughs, shaking his head and jogging across the gym to his office. Paperwork was probably the only thing he was capable of right now. Being in love is definitely going to be hell on his ability to focus.

Somehow, he makes it through the next few days. The snickers and the knowing looks fade away. He and Tommy learn to make things work. It's really not so difficult. They both know when to work and when to play. And they did a lot of playing. Before long, it seems like Tommy spends more time at Frank's place than he does at home and Frank's Sundays always include family dinner at the Conlon house.

When the girls start calling him Uncle Frank, he just rolls with it. When they ask if they can help plan the wedding, he chokes on his roast and Tommy very solemnly assures them that they can pick out Uncle Frank's dress. Frank retaliates by punching him in the ribs.

When Tommy mentions that his dad is going to be in town, Frank feels at something of a loss. He knows that Brendan still wants nothing to do with him without communication being by phone or email. But Tommy is different. In spite of his anger, he still wants the relationship he was cheated out of.

Tommy told Frank late one night, as they curled up together on the deck behind Tess and Brendan's house, about what happened at Sparta. How Tommy feels that he's the reason that his dad fell back into the bottle. Frank won't give an opinion on the subject either way. Tommy knows that Paddy can't blame his drinking problem on his sons.

What it comes down to is that the man has been sober again for a while now and he wants to see Tommy. Tommy is willing to see him, but he finally confesses that he doesn't think he can do it without Frank there to support him. Not that Tommy would use the word support. Or hell, even phrase it that way. All he says is that maybe Frank should go, it might be better that way.

In a way, Frank is relieved. He loves Tommy, even if he hasn't said it, and he had been afraid of what might happen if Tommy faced it alone. Even sober, it seems that Paddy Conlon's presence is a toxic force in his sons' lives. Maybe, just maybe, Frank can keep him from causing any more damage.

What ultimately happens is Tommy arranging that they'll meet at a diner that he frequents with Frank and Pence after they leave the gym. Frank's proud of Tommy, the way the man slots this into a routine and controls the circumstances instead of letting the circumstances control him.

When Paddy arrives, Frank is texting Tess running updates on how Tommy's nerves are holding up and Tommy's demolishing his third cup of coffee. He makes unnecessary introductions, goads his father with loaded questions and touches Frank more than is strictly necessary. He's got all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

Paddy, who seems only too grateful for a chance to see at least one of his sons, lightly but shakily asks if they live together. Tommy starts to answer but Frank cuts him off as he rests a hand on Tommy's. “Yeah, nearby. You'll have to come for dinner sometime. I promise I won't let Tommy cook.”

Grateful or not, Paddy can only take so much at once, it seems. He politely pushes it off, says maybe sometime in the future they can manage it. The visit doesn't last too much longer and while it's a little tense, it goes well and ends with an awkward hug for father and son, while Frank gets a handshake after Paddy had a moment of consideration.

They watch Paddy climb into his car and drive away before walking back to Frank's apartment. They don't talk but the tone of Tommy's silence and the set of his face tells Frank that the younger man is thinking, analyzing the evening down to the smallest details.

It goes without saying that Tommy will be spending the night. They move around each other in a now familiar routine. By the time they've both brushed their teeth and crashed into bed, the wrinkles in his forehead have disappeared and he's smiling again, just a little. Frank mirrors it as he clicks the TV on before handing the remote to Tommy.

“Y'know, about what you told my old man back there...” Tommy trails off, glancing at Frank with a smirk. “When you helping me move in?”


End file.
